My lady is so wondrous fair, 
She needs no flower in her hair,
No precious jewel, silk or lace 
To light the splendor of her face.

My lady is encircled round 
With zeyphyrs as are only found 
Where breaks the faintest fairy-day,
Or tiny children are at play.

My lady is the breath of life
That fills the soul, yet stills the strife — 
I crave her love, but stand apart;
She holds the world within her heart.